Musings

[jezebelinhell]

The snow sets on branches and you know it is winter. The cold, it bites into your skin and the frost feels familiar as it settles a thin layer of ice over your world and you know it is winter. Everything is colored in a uniform shade of white. It's death. When the air turns crisp and yet unforgiving, you know it is winter. But when you are Tremere. It is always winter.

And I have always hated the cold.

Maybe it is time to turn up the heat.